Page 2 of Riding with the Shifter

Fuck. Me.

The second I lay eyes on the curvy little number by the bar, my wolf starts howling like a horny teenager. She’s goddamn gorgeous - smooth brown skin, wild natural curls, and an ass that won’t quit in those painted-on jeans. But it’s more than that. It’s like my soul recognizes hers. Like I’ve known her for a thousand years instead of thirty seconds.

She’s my mate. I feel it in my blood, in my bones. The other half of me I didn’t even know was missing until now.

“Bro, you’re straight up salivating,” my M.C. brother, Tracker, snickers next to me. “Who’s got you ready to hump the barstool?”

“Shut it,” I growl, never taking my eyes off her. “That’s my fuckin’ mate over there.”

Tracker’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “No shit? Congrats dude! She’s smokin’.” He claps me on the back. “So whatcha waiting for? Go claim your woman!”

If only it were that easy. She’s not some barfly looking for her next ride. One look at her and I can tell she’s all class. A lady. The kind you bring home to mom and fight like hell to keep.

“Slow your roll, man. She’s not some sweetbutt to paw at. Gotta do this right.”

“Hey, no disrespect meant.” Tracker holds up his hands. “You take all the time you need to woo your girl.”

“Appreciate it.” I chug the rest of my drink, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Wish me luck.”

“Something tells me you won’t need it, brother.”

Tracker’s vote of confidence ringing in my ears, I start to weave through the crowd, locked on her delicate scent of vanilla and peaches. But halfway there, I see her hop off her stool and dart for the back door. Perfect. A little privacy is just what I need to make my move.

I follow her out into the alley, drinking in the sight of her illuminated in the neon glow. Christ, she’s even more stunning up close, with her high cheekbones and bee-stung lips. My jeans get uncomfortably tight as all my blood rushes south.

“Hey there, beautiful,” I say, keeping my tone playful so I don’t spook her. “Needed to escape the meat market too?”

Her snort of amusement nearly makes me pump my fist in victory… until she crosses her arms and levels me with a look.

“Just getting some fresh air. Alone.”

Fuck, that’s hot. My wolf yips approvingly at her feistiness. I flash her a grin. “Mind if I join you? Promise I don’t bite… unless you ask me to.”

Her lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Does that line ever work for you?”

“Don’t know. Never had to use it before.” I step closer, pulling out the big guns. “There’s just something about you.”

Too much? Apparently, based on her scoff. “Right. Well, as impressive as your pickup lines are, I should get back to my friends.”

Shit. Losing her. Can’t let her go without a name at least. I reach out to brush her arm, electricity crackling between us at the slightest touch.

“Wait. Can I at least get your name?”

At that, her resolve crumbles. “Zara,” she sighs, eyelids fluttering. “Zara Sinclair.”

“Zara,” I echo, entranced. It suits her perfectly. Strong, graceful, exotic. Just like her. “I’m Ryder. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

I’m about to lay it on real thick, maybe score her number, when fuckin’ Tracker cockblocks me by banging open the door.

“Yo Ryder, quit hogging the hottie and get your ass in here! Rack’s open.”

I tamp down a snarl as Zara startles. Way to ruin the moment. With a beleaguered sigh, I turn to my pain in the ass of a brother. “Be right there, Tracker. Try not to burn the place down before I get back.”

Tracker shoots Zara an apologetic grin before ducking back inside, leaving us alone again. I paste on a carefree smile to mask my annoyance.

“Sorry darlin’, duty calls. But I’ll be seeing you real soon. Count on it.”

I toss her a wink, then stroll back inside, every cell in my body screaming to stay with her. But I know pushing too hard will only send her running. Zara’s the type you gotta ease into the saddle, one sweet step at a time.

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